The Undivided (6 page)

Jack looked surprised. ‘Seriously? Don’t those brat camps make you live on mung beans and dog shite until you’ve seen the error of your ways?’

Ren nodded. ‘If I had to choose, I’d opt for military school, myself, but I’m guessing that won’t happen. My mother doesn’t like the idea of me being armed. Even under controlled conditions.’

‘You know they’re gonna hound you, now, don’t you?’ Jack warned. ‘The press, I mean. Waiting for you to open that potty mouth of yours and change feet.’

Ren nodded, as the old man began to tape a long, narrow piece of gauze over Ren’s stab wound. ‘They’ll get sick of me, soon enough,’ he said. ‘I’m not all that interesting.’

‘Well, you weren’t until last night, lad,’ Jack said, tearing off another piece of tape with his teeth. ‘Still, if you stay out of the way for a few days, they’ll find someone else to bother, I suppose.’

‘That’s what I’m hoping.’

Jack finished off the dressing and stood back to admire his handiwork. It was completely light outside now, a slight mist rising off the damp grass.

‘You’ll need to come over tomorrow so I can change the dressing and check there’s no infection,’ he said. ‘Unless of
course you’re planning to tell your mam about this and she’s taken you to a real hospital by then.’

‘Not likely.’ Ren picked up his discarded T-shirt and tossed it to the old man. ‘Can you ditch that for me? I brought my tracksuit and joggers with me. If Kerry catches me sneaking back in, I’ll tell her I’ve been out running.’

It wasn’t such an outrageous plan. Jogging was an acceptable way for him to escape the house. Staying fit was an admirable goal, after all. As Kiva Kavanaugh lived on a permanent diet — only the endorsement deal varied — Ren’s announcement that he was following her example had proved a very popular move, even though he’d declined his mother’s offer of his own personal trainer.

‘You gonna be okay?’

Ren nodded. ‘Yeah. Thanks. When’s your housekeeper due?’

‘Not until next Friday. I gave her the school holidays off. Something to do with her grandkids.’ Jack tossed the T-shirt onto the pile of empty pizza boxes. ‘You know … there’s got to be a reason this keeps happening, laddie.’

‘Bring it on,’ Ren said with heartfelt sincerity. ‘And then let’s make it stop.’

As soon as he was in sight of his own house, Ren jogged from the garden into the kitchen, glad the codeine tablets Jack had given him were taking the edge off his pain. The sun was fully up now, the mist vanishing from the damp lawn almost as quickly as it had formed. He was still sweating with the pain, but that worked in his favour. It made it look like he really had been out jogging.

Kerry Boyle looked up and glanced over her shoulder as the door opened. She was cooking toast. The smell of it made Ren’s stomach rumble. As he walked into the kitchen, he discovered why she was cooking toast. It certainly wasn’t for Kiva. His
mother had been carb-free for weeks now, in preparation for the various movie premieres she had to attend and the insanely expensive designer dresses which she intended to squeeze into.

Kerry’s two children were with her: Neil, her red-haired, freckle-faced twelve-year-old son, and Hayley, her seventeen-year-old stepdaughter. Hayley looked more like her father than her brother, dark-haired and green-eyed. She also happened to be the only other person besides Jack O’Righin who believed Ren when he claimed he wasn’t slicing himself up for attention.

‘Ah, here he is,’ the housekeeper said with a smile, as she placed a plate piled with buttered toast in front of Neil who was sitting at the granite-topped kitchen island next to his sister. ‘The red carpet terror with the filthy mouth. I’m surprised you’re up early. Didn’t your flight not arrive until the wee small hours?’

No need to ask, then, whether Kerry had seen the news.

‘We got in about two,’ Ren confirmed. ‘Kiva said not to wake her until Jon gets here.’

Neil grinned at him, shaking his head. ‘Man, I cannot
believe
you said that in front of your mother.’

‘And on national television,’ Hayley added through a mouthful of toast.

‘She’ll never let you attend another premiere,’ Kerry warned, placing a plate of freshly buttered toast in front of an empty stool for Ren.

He pulled out the seat and sat down with relief. ‘Then my work here is done,’ he said, reaching for the marmalade.

Neil was appalled. ‘You said that on
purpose
?’ He shook his red curls, pretending to be horrified, probably to mask the burning hero worship he’d developed for his older cousin in the last few months, which Ren studiously ignored to save embarrassing them both. ‘You are so
bad
, Ren.’

Kerry put her hand on Ren’s shoulder, a gesture that was both comforting and sympathetic. ‘Foolish, rather than bad, I think,
Neil. But it wasn’t a wise thing to do, Ren. In fact, after this, I’ll be surprised if your poor mother doesn’t finally act on her threat to send you to that camp in Utah she’s always going on about.’

Ren shrugged. ‘I told her I didn’t want to be paraded down the red carpet like her newest handbag.’

‘And you don’t think you could have found a more subtle way of making your point?’ Kerry asked, turning to lift the kettle off the range as it began to sing. His mother’s cousin was the complete opposite of Kiva — plump and dark-haired, calm and comforting where Kiva was blonde, angular and nervy. If Ren had grown up in any way normal, it wasn’t thanks to Kiva’s well-meaning but erratic parenting, it was because of the stability and down-to-earth practicality of Kerry Boyle.

But it was time to get off the topic of last night’s premiere. He glanced at Neil and Hayley. ‘How come you two are here?’

It wasn’t unusual for Kerry to bring her kids to work but, as a rule, she didn’t let them hang around all day during school vacations — particularly not on a day like today when Kiva had just returned from her latest travels and likely to be a little fractious.

‘Neil needs new shoes before school goes back,’ Hayley explained, as her brother devoured his toast as if he’d not been fed for a month. ‘Mum figured we could go across to the Blackrock Shopping Centre while she’s working today, or find something over the road at the Frascati mall.’

‘Cool,’ Ren said, spying a perfect opportunity to be gone for the day. ‘Can I come?’

‘
You
want to help Hayley shop for shoes?’ Kerry asked, making no attempt to hide the scepticism in her tone.

‘Actually, I want to be far, far away from here when my mother wakes up,’ Ren told her honestly. ‘Neil’s endlessly expanding feet seem as good an excuse as any for being elsewhere.’

‘Hey!’ Neil exclaimed, looking wounded.

Hayley grinned at him. Kerry studied Ren for a moment, her eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and concern. ‘All right, then,’ she said. ‘But if she asks me, I’ll tell Kiva where you are, Ren. I won’t lie to her.’

‘You don’t need to lie for me, Kerry,’ he said, relieved beyond words he had managed to delay the inevitable confrontation over his behaviour. ‘I just need to give her time to calm down.’

‘I’m not sure there is such a time,’ Kerry said. ‘But at least with you there, Neil won’t be able to bully his sister into buying him anything with
Lord of the Rings
characters on them.’ She turned to open the cupboard where the coffee mugs were stored. ‘Now who wants a cup of tea with their toast, and who wants hot chocolate?’

‘There are things you need to know, Brydie,’ the queen said, straightening the folds of her white cloak as the wagon trundled through the ring of earthworks surrounding
Ráith Righ
, ‘before we get to
Sí an Bhrú.
’

Brydie nodded, expecting some sort of explanation before they arrived at the Druid stronghold. She hadn’t expected the size of the escort, however. It was only seventeen miles or so to
Sí an Bhrú
through friendly territory. If you stood on top of the
Ráith’s
tower, on a clear day like today, you could actually see the white quartz stones of its entrance glistening in the sunlight. It hardly seemed necessary for the queen to have an escort of enough men-at-arms to defend them against a small army.

Álmhath’s son, Torcán, wasn’t riding with his mother in the wagon. The tall, dour prince rode at the head of the column, his future bride, Anwen, at his side, leading their progress.

Anwen will be loving that
, Brydie thought,
unless she’s peeved that I’m in here with the queen.
Brydie couldn’t imagine why she’d rather be in the wagon. Álmhath was a daunting figure at the best of times. Much better to be riding at the head of the column in a place of honour with your future husband, than sitting here suffering the unrelenting scrutiny of your future mother-in-law.

‘Do you know why we’re headed to
Sí an Bhrú
?’

Brydie shook her head. She had a few suspicions, but really didn’t know anything. As she was dressing for this journey, in her best kirtle and the fine linen shift her stepmother had given her before she left home, Brydie had racked her brains for some hint of the reason for this summons, but could think of none. She had no special gifts, no unique talents; she had nothing she could imagine the goddess couldn’t find in a score of other girls at Álmhath’s court. ‘I assume it has something to do with the recent visit of Lord Tarth of the
Daoine sídhe.
’

‘It has everything to do with it,’ Álmhath agreed, scowling. ‘The
Tuatha
have found something they weren’t meant to find. We are now in somewhat of a bind, because of it.’

‘What did they find?’ Brydie asked, as the wagon clattered over the wooden road that connected Temair to
Sí an Bhrú
, winding through the low hills as it followed the natural contours of the landscape. It was a glorious day, warm and clear, but sunset was approaching and the chilly wind was back. Had it not been for the breeze carrying the faintest hint of winter on its breath, it would be hard to credit it was only a few weeks until
Lughnasadh.

‘That is something you don’t need to know, just now,’ the queen told her. ‘In fact, it’s rather important you don’t know. But it is directly related to the honour
Danú
has chosen for you.’

For a sacrilegious moment, Brydie wondered if it really was the goddess who’d marked her, or if this honour simply suited the queen. In Brydie’s experience, when the goddess spoke, she usually did so on a grand scale, sending things like floods, famines and plagues to make her will known — a will that required Druids with years of mystical training to interpret.
Danú
wasn’t in the habit, as far as Brydie was aware, of handing out specific instructions to individuals.

She knew better than to point this out to her queen, however.

‘What must I do,
an Bhantiarna
?’ she asked. And then she added, almost as an apology to the goddess for her blasphemous thoughts, ‘Whatever honour the goddess has chosen for me, if it is in my power to do it, I will do it willingly.’

The queen nodded her approval and then glanced around, as if making certain they could not be overheard, either by their escort or — Brydie was certain — by any agent of the
Tuatha
lurking in the shadows in animal or bird form. Then she turned to Brydie and met her gaze evenly. ‘She wants you to bear a child of Darragh of the Undivided.’

For a long moment, Brydie didn’t answer, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Her silence apparently frustrated the queen. ‘Is that all you’re going to do, girl? Sit there and gawp at me?’

‘I … I don’t
know
what to say, my lady,’ Brydie told her honestly. She truly didn’t. She’d known ever since coming to court that she was destined to bear the sons of the next generation of rulers, but she’d expected a husband, and a little more fanfare. The blunt announcement caught her by surprise.

‘Gods … you’re not still a virgin are you?’

‘Of course not.’ Brydie had happily surrendered her innocence at last year’s
Lughnasadh
, almost a year ago.

‘Well, that’s a start, I suppose,’ the queen remarked, a little sourly. ‘Are you going to ask me why?’

‘If it’s the will of the goddess …’

‘Oh, don’t give me that,’ the queen scoffed. ‘I saw the look you gave me this morning in the grove, when I suggested Ethna and Morann were blessed by
Danú
. You didn’t believe it for a moment.’

‘Do you believe,
an Bhantiarna
?’ Brydie felt compelled to ask, a little bothered to learn the queen could read her so easily.

‘I believe
Danú
gave our people a gift, Brydie,’ the queen told her, lowering her voice as she leant forward. ‘It’s a gift wrapped
in a package we might not have chosen for ourselves, but it is a gift nonetheless. A precious gift, but one that can all too easily be taken from us, if we loosen our grip on it. We believe it is
Danú
’s will that we use the wit she gave us, to hold onto it.’

Brydie wished she understood what the queen was telling her, but Álmhath really wasn’t making much sense.

‘I’m not sure I understand of which gift you speak,
an Bhantiarna.
’

‘I speak of the gift of
Tuatha
magic,’ the queen said, leaning back in her seat.

Brydie frowned. ‘But that is a gift bestowed on the Druids through the Undivided, my lady. Not mere mortals like you and I.’

Álmhath’s brow furrowed with irritation. ‘The Druids
are
us, you foolish girl,’ she said. ‘As I say, the gift comes in a package I would not have chosen, but the Undivided are human, just like you and me, as are the Druids who channel the magic because of their link to the twins. If we lose their bloodline, we lose the magic. You may not think that would make much difference to you, but consider for a moment what our world would be like if we lost the ability to travel instantly through the stone circles, from one place to another. If rift runners couldn’t visit other realms to warn of dangers facing this one. Think of the famines we would have suffered, if we hadn’t been warned in advance and known to stockpile food? The lives that might have been lost in a flood, had we not seen it coming in another realm so we could evacuate people and livestock to higher ground. Imagine if our healers were forced to heal people with nothing but herbs and dubious surgical tools rather than with magic.’ She shook her head, sighing. ‘If you’ve ever seen the aftermath of a battle where there was no magically gifted
Liaig
to heal men’s wounds, Brydie Ni’Seanan, you’d not so lightly dismiss
Danú
’s gift to us.’

Brydie had truly never thought of the Undivided in that way
before. Or the Druids. But one thing puzzled her about the queen’s impassioned speech. ‘You said the bloodline needed to be preserved, my lady. I didn’t think the Undivided were related to their predecessors. I thought psychic twins were something random that happened at
Danú
’s whim?’

‘
Danú
’s whim and the will of the
Matrarchaí
,’ the queen said, frowning.

‘The
Matrarchaí
?’ Brydie asked, puzzled by the queen’s comment.

‘The
Matrarchaí
are the reason the line has never been broken, Brydie. The reason why, after sixty-six generations, humans still occupy
Sí an Bhrú.
’

Brydie stared at the queen as she realised what Álmhath was telling her. ‘The
Matrarchaí
know the secret of producing the psychic twins needed to preserve the Treaty of
Tír Na nÓg
.’

The queen nodded, smiling grimly. ‘Your father said you were a bright girl.’

‘That’s what you meant about my mother’s line.’

‘There is more than one bloodline,’ Álmhath told her. ‘There has to be, or those who have a vested interest in there not being a new set of twins to take over channelling the power would have wiped out the line a thousand years ago. Yours happens to be one of the stronger ones. Fortunate indeed that your last bleed was near a fortnight past,’ the queen added. ‘We may not have much time, so it’s important you conceive as soon as possible.’

‘Why is time suddenly a problem?’ Brydie asked. She couldn’t see what the rush was. Darragh of the Undivided had been living a mere seventeen miles away all his life. Surely, if it was so critical to preserve his line, Álmhath could have slipped a fertile woman into his bed anytime in the last four years, or so.

‘The
Tuatha
have forced our hand,’ the queen told her, frowning. ‘If we don’t act soon, there may not be a line to preserve.’

Brydie’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘Is Darragh in some sort of danger?’

‘He’s always in some sort of danger. He is one of the Undivided,’ Álmhath said, glancing around as the canopied wagon slowed. She turned to look over her shoulder. ‘Why are we stopping?’

Brydie rose to her feet to find out if she could see past the forest of pikes carried by their mounted escort. ‘I think there is something blocking the road.’

It was hard to tell, and she didn’t think it was a dire threat, because the mounted guards still had their pikes pointed at the sky, rather than lowering them, as they would if they thought the queen was under attack.

By the time she sat down, the wagon had come to a complete stop.

‘Did you want me to find out what’s going on?’ she asked.

Álmhath didn’t answer. Instead, she leant over the side of the wagon. ‘Seamus! What’s going on! Why have we stopped!’

‘The fault is mine, I fear,
an Bhantiarna
.’

Brydie yelped in fright. On the other side of the wagon, the
sídhe
lord, Marcroy Tarth, had suddenly appeared. He was dressed in a fine embroidered linen shirt and a dark emerald cloak held together at his throat by a deep purple amethyst and gold filigree brooch.

‘I was on my way to
Sí an Bhrú
when I saw your party approaching and thought I might prevail upon your hospitality for a ride.’

‘How convenient for you,’ Álmhath remarked with a scowl. There was no way, Brydie realised, the queen would be able to refuse Marcroy’s request for a lift to
Sí an Bhrú
, which effectively put an end to the discussion they were having. Brydie was destined to remain in the dark about her queen’s sudden need for a child from the Undivided for some time yet, it seemed.

‘Do you travel alone, my lord?’ the queen inquired, looking about for any other of the
Tuatha
that might accompany the Faerie lord.

‘I thought it better under the circumstances,’ Marcroy said, smiling. ‘I didn’t want to alarm anybody at
Sí an Bhrú
.’ He turned his attention to Brydie. ‘Well met, Lady Brydie. You are honoured indeed to ride with the queen this fine day. You will not object to me joining you, I hope?’

It was phrased as a question, but there really wasn’t any polite way for Brydie to answer, except in the affirmative. She glanced at Álmhath for help. The queen let out an exasperated sigh and offered Marcroy a seat with a wave of her hand.

With a smile and a nimble leap, the
sídhe
jumped into the wagon, barely making it rock as he took his place beside Brydie. The guards relaxed and Seamus headed back to the head of the column to ride with Torcán and Anwen.

‘So, what are we discussing?’ Marcroy asked the silent and decidedly peeved women with a pleasant smile. ‘The weather? The latest fashions at court? How long it will be before Atilis is run through by one of his neighbours?’

‘We speak of nothing that would interest you, Marcroy,’ Álmhath told him, settling back in her seat. Brydie judged that to be a monumental lie, but she took her cue from the queen and made no attempt to resume their earlier discussion.

‘Oh, but you judge me too harshly,
an Bhantiarna
,’ he said, his hand on his heart. ‘I am always fascinated by what humans find interesting.’ He turned to Brydie. ‘What is it that
you
find interesting, my lady?’

Brydie wasn’t sure how to answer him, or even if she should. In the end, she shrugged. ‘I don’t know … lots of things.’

‘What sort of things?’ Marcroy insisted. He was enjoying her discomfort. She could tell.

‘Just … things …’

Marcroy’s smile widened. Although she’d seen many a
sídhe
since coming to Álmhath’s court, she still couldn’t look at their cat-like eyes without feeling a little awkward. She glanced away, fixing her gaze on the Faerie lord’s brooch, which seemed the safest place to look. The wagon bumped over the wooden road at a steady pace, but it was going to be a long journey in this company.

‘My brooch seems to fascinate you,’ Marcroy remarked, as if he knew what she was thinking.

‘It’s lovely,’ she agreed, wishing she could just curl up and not look at the Faerie at all.

Marcroy reached up and unclasped the brooch. ‘Then you shall have it, my dear.’

He held the brooch out to her on the palm of his hand.

Brydie didn’t know what to do. She looked at the queen for help. Álmhath seemed a little suspicious, but after a moment, she shrugged. ‘You should thank Lord Tarth for such a valuable gift.’

Taking the brooch gingerly from his hand, Brydie smiled uncomfortably. ‘Thank you,
tiarna
.’

‘It is my pleasure, Lady Brydie,’ Marcroy said, looking inordinately pleased with himself. ‘I hope my gift will bring you many hours of happiness.’